


Ourselves | Edward Cullen

by OhChangelingChild



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Ainsel - Freeform, Angels, Awkward Edward, Demons, Elves, F/M, Fairies, Mermaids, Reincarnation, Shifters, Slow Burn Romance, Soulmates, Spirits, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, dying young, life’s purpose, mother - Freeform, one sided pining, redhead Edward, virgins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25171981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhChangelingChild/pseuds/OhChangelingChild
Summary: A Twilight FanfictionEdward Cullen x OFC
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Ainsel Graves, Edward Cullen/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	1. Intro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Twilight Fanfiction  
> Edward Cullen x OFC

Ainsel just finished her eighth life and has still yet to find her purpose. Yet, Dr. Windsor (the primary spirit in charge of the Office of Reincarnation) is sure that this time, with a little bit of aid from the Council and a little meddling in God's business, Ainsel is sure to find enough peace and contentment in this next life to continue into the afterlife. However, there are always more complications than expected when dealing with the Earthly Realm; For one, Ainsel must scratch everything she knows about humanity from her past eight lives (despite the bargain to keep her memories) due to a recent change in race. For another, with a record of dying too young, Ainsel must survive long enough to fulfill a purpose only God knows — and is bastard enough not to even hint at it to anyone. All the while, Ainsel can't help but shake the feeling of being watched during her ninth life. Life is hard enough the first time around, but mix in the mythical beings that she had been lucky enough to avoid the first eight lifetimes? Let's just say it's a good thing her third eye is open.

* * *

WARNINGS:

death

reincarnation

religious themes

stalking

violence

(possibly) mature scenes

* * *

OTHER ACCOUNTS:

Tumblr - VirginityVirtueAndVampires

Wattpad - OhChangelingChild | @CHANLH


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Twilight Fanfiction  
> Edward Cullen x OFC

I groaned as the memories, once again, came flooding back. The flashes of past lives — past mistakes, past hopes and dreams, past deaths — swarmed my mind like a bottle of angry hornets. Not just the previous life that ended in a hospital bed, but the seven that came before then as well. All I could do was reminisce at the familiar feeling of remembering as I sat, once again, on one of the many chairs in the Office of Reincarnation.

At this point, the spirits knew where to place me after each life — they knew I wasn't one to give up after each failed attempt. But at this point, when I looked around the office's waiting room that hadn't changed at all in the last half dozen centuries, I began to think about giving up. For the past seven, now eight, lives I've lived in that world, each ended too horribly and awfully too soon. And as I slouched in the soft, off white chair I started to think about how easy it would be to just go up to the receptionist and request for a transfer to begin my trial for the Afterlife Council. Surely they'd show some mercy at a tired and failed soul...right?

I let out another tired breath, knowing that in actuality, I didn't even need to breathe here. But since I had just recently came from living my longest life yet — dying at the tender age of 21 — where I died not being able to breathe... well you can imagine how calming it was to sigh despite not needing to. Without thinking too hard, I perched my feet up on the chair until my head came to rest on my knees. I peered at my feet, the same I had in my most recent life.

I always realized that souls — and especially Limbo — were weird, having the ability to change the appearance of yourself to match one of the bodies of your lives or none of them at all. But as I sat there, peering at the toes that peeked from out of the hospital gown, the toes that I once hated in my most recent life, I felt a heaviness in my non existent heart. My most recent family will have to bury that body, a body I'll never see again, a life I'll never see again. And I felt a little bit more love for those toes that I watched wiggle in the Office or Reincarnation's chair.

"Ainsel?" A sweet, familiar voice called.

Yes, I realized, that was me. At least, my soul's name. While our worldly names changed with each life, our soul name stayed the same. And I knew the other soul name of the spirit that called my name: Charmeine.

I looked up to see soft blue eyes, surrounded by thick eyelashes looking intently at me. As our eyes met, an angelic smile appeared on her face. Charmeine...

She was once a human soul like me, from the same world even. But after living out her life, she quickly climbed the ranks in the afterlife. It was hard enough to get into a good afterlife, let alone trying to become on similar standing as angels. Of course, it had been done before; mortal souls have the opportunity to do the same tasks as some of the lower spirits, although they will never truly be angels, demons, or spirits themselves. 

Charmeine had become an intern for the Office of Reincarnation a little after the end of my fifth life. She was fresh and bright and eager to begin her afterlife well after her studies at All Souls Academy, a school for those who wanted to do something with their unlife. Charmeine, of course, wanted to become a guardian angel — one of the lowest, yet most important of roles in the Angel Ranks. But even after several more centuries, she's still here... although I guess that happens when you have literally forever to get a promotion.

“Dr. Windsor will see you now, Ainsel." Charmeine flushed, holding the door open from across the room.

I stood up, walking across the warm wooden floors towards the door, gaining angry mutters from around me. I had only been here for a few minutes, they snarled, they'd been here for months. What they didn't know was that they were still new souls, only trying for their second life; I was a senior here and was by now grandfathered in.

We passed by a series of doors until coming to the very back where the last, but most important door in the whole facility lied, with a golden plaque reading "Dr. Windsor." Charmeine led the way, grinning brightly as she knocked and opened the door upon the brief command to come in.

"Windy," I greeted the doctor as I strode in, plopping myself down on my usual seat in all my hospital gown glory.

"Anal," he greeted back with a smirk before letting out a sigh. "So... Corona, huh? Nice."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"Hey, give me some credit — This is the longest I've been alive so far..."

"Ah yes, twenty-one; a ripe old age to die!" He sassed.

I gave him a look, one he was all too familiar with. He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face as if trying to tear the skin off.

"Look kid, I'm trying my best here." He pleaded. "Some things are just beyond our control; you know we cannot interfere with the choices of mortal souls.

"But," he continued with a sly smirk, waving a hefty stack of papers in the air. "I just so happened to be prepared for this and have been hard at work arguing my case the past twenty one years-"

I blinked in confusion, not knowing where this was going.

"To get a time transfer..."

Still did not know what was going on. Thankfully, Windy seemed to realize this with a dramatic roll of his eyes. Charmeine even let out a chortle, that is until Windy placed his exasperation into a glare directed towards her. But soon enough, he directed his discontentment back towards me.

"A time transfer... hello?!" He cried. "Does this not ring a bell?!"

"Ummm...."

"Of course not..." he groaned. "Listen Ainsel—"

Dr. Windsor looked more serious than I had ever seen him in the last eight centuries. It made the slight hollow, achy feeling of fear crawl back into my nonexistent rib cage and start to poison my soul. But underneath that fear was the slight tingling sensation of hope.

"Each soul is unique — mortal souls, spirits, angels, demons — doesn't matter! Each soul has a purpose of its own; some souls find their purpose in bettering the lives of others, some find it in using the given gifts, some... even both. But you! You, kid, have a particular purpose..."

Dr. Windsor started shifting around the papers on his desk, as if looking for his own purpose in the multitudes of files.

"Ah ha!" He exclaimed upon finding a particular paper, already laminated and protected from the coffee like substance that had been spilled and dried on the surface. Without further warning, he shoved it in my face.

"This, kid, is where you find it!"

I snatched the paper from out of his hands, eyes quickly scanning the surface of neatly typed information.

* * *

**Rebirthal Documentation**

Soul: Ainsel

Life: 9th

World: Earth

Parents: Margot Graves (birth giver) and James Cutley (sperm donor)

Guardians: Margot Graves and Ophelia Graves (Mothers)

Race: Witches

Birthday: January 1, 1987 A.D.

* * *

I stopped reading at the birthday, despite the list continuing on for several more pages. There was a lot already on there: the complexity of my parental birth, the race itself as (I had only had human lives prior), but the birth date — specifically the year — was what threw me off.  
  


"The time transfer...." I said in realization. "You're sending my soul through a time loop. Isn't that dangerous?"

"Of course it is." Windy scoffed. "That why I had to fight for so long on the approval."

There was a moment of silence as I looked over the document and Dr. Windsor looked at me. Charmeine shifted her gaze between the two of us, wringing her hand as she did so.

"Fine." I surrendered. "But on one condition."

"Of course." Dr. Windsor said sarcastically. "Go ahead, shoot."

"I want to keep my memories and everything else from my past lives."

There was a pause, leading to a sigh of absolution that came from Dr. Windsor.

"You know what? Consider it done."

"Dr. Windsor," Charmeine intervened. "You know that the council must approve on such matters and you—"

Dr. Windsor raised his hand to silence her.

"I know the rules." Before he muttered. "And I know when to break them, too."

Dr. Windsor picked up the golden ink pen, the one that sets life in stone, and finished writing the finer details of my future life into the papers I handed back with shaky hands. It took less than two minutes before he handed the papers over to Charmeine. The angel in training clutched the papers tightly, gaping in shock at the doctor.

"File the papers," he stated. "And be a dear and lead Ainsel to the portal."

I could still see the slight shake of Charmeine's hands as she turned abruptly back to the door. As I made my way to follow her, Dr. Windsor called out one last time.

"And Ainsel..." he took his shaded glasses off, looking intently into my eyes with dark ones that nearly showed his age. "I don't want to see you back here for many, many more years, got it?"

"Same here, Windy." I nodded with a shaky smile."See you on the other side."

"See you, kid."

The door shut behind me, barely getting one last glimpse of the worry he rarely showed on his face.

*

  
Charmeine once again led me to a door, lodged behind several vaults and locks. The Door of Rebirth. As soon as I stepped through the door, I will be born once again into a cruel but hopeful world. This time, I just hoped that with the aid of my past life memories I could make my ninth my last. One last shot to know my purpose on this plane of existence.

Just as I was about to step through the portal, Charmeine placed a gentle hand on my arm. I turned to look at her, her ice blue eyes ever the same as they were the first time I saw her centuries ago in that cold, endless waiting room. Her red hair tucked neatly into her barrettes, brushing against my cheeks and she leaned closer. It wasn't until my eyes settled onto her lips that I realized she had been talking feverishly, her eyes darting around wildly.

"—who knows, maybe one day I'll be your guardian angel..." she rushes out. "Maybe even one day you'll give up on life and ... join me? I mean some humans can enter the ranks of higher spirits, that's what I'm doing after all, I mean —"

I rose up to kiss her cheek, successfully silencing her with a tender look.

"Thank you, Charmeine."

Before she could try to persuade me further, as she did before each lifetime, I crossed through the portal that rippled like spring water, casting rainbows and light about the surface. I felt a familiar coolness before a blinding heat took place. I couldn't even hear the last words she spoke to me as I smiled into my new fate.

"Bye, Ainsel..." The guardian angel in training stood there, hands still quivering around the papers and clipboard as she stared desperately at the now still surface of the portal.


	3. Chapter 3

Throughout the past sixteen years of my new life, I — Ainsel Graves — discovered more about the world I lived in than I ever had in my past eight lifetimes combined. For one, I began to understand the importance of balance in the universe, especially when it came to power. For another, I soon enough realized the limitations that came with such a notion.

For instance, in my past eight lives, I had been categorized as a majority of the world’s race: human. However, even after sixteen years, I still was not sure if being one of Earth’s minority — otherwise known as a magical being — in my most recent life was truly worth the struggle.

Being born as a witch had brought a newfound source of interest in being alive. With enough training and perseverance, the world could be at my finger tips. I had powers beyond what any of my past eight lives could have envisioned, nearly rivaling those of the spiritual realm.

Yet, just as previously stated, the universe liked balance. And there was nothing more balancing than rivaling godly powers with mortality.

Despite my own skepticism in even _wanting_ to be immortal, the subject still elicited a curious response within me. After all, every other magical being was granted immortality; vampires, shifters, werewolves, elves, mermaids, faeries, harpies, centaurs, fauns, nymphs…. The list could go on. But as far as witches were concerned, they were cast into the same lifespan longevity as humans.

I supposed it was fair enough; while each magical being held power over only one section of magic, witches had access to harness as many or as little types of magic as they wanted. To balance out the fairness, the universe gave witches more power, but less time to practice it and vice versa to the rest. Yet, the only thing that truly linked each magical being to each other was their need for humans, or more particularly, the mana to which humans naturally produced.

While magical beings generated their own mana, an energy to which supplied their power, it manifested far more slowly and much less than that of a single human. Yet, depending on the magical being, the mana was harvested in different ways.

For example, vampires’ magic consisted of Glamours, otherwise known as the power to manipulate the physical body. They were not only more physically beautiful, but had increased strength and speed, and better senses. Yet, the way they maintained their power and harvested mana was through the drinking of human blood.

For shifters, their magic had to do with Transmutation. They had the ability to transform into different forms, with the variety and multitude of forms depending solely on their skill and practice. The way they went about their harvesting of mana was a lot more subtle than most magical beings, however. Instead of taking from the body or the mind of a human, shifters subconsciously harvested the mana from a human’s emotions, mostly from those they were in close physical contact with. The only draw back to this type of mana was that if they harvested too much emotion from those around them, their powers would be triggered at a higher rate, almost uncontrollably so.

For werewolves, their magic had to do with Illusion. Just as the moon they were bound to, their magic had to do with warping reality, making things seem partially hidden in darkness or what shouldn’t be seen shown to the light. Despite what most people thought, werewolves didn’t solely resemble wolves — instead, they took on whatever form that the werewolves felt was most horrifying to who they were trying to scare or manipulate. In some countries, they went by the title of “boggart” or even “wulver.” Yet, what held dominion over their power was the strength of the moon phases that determined what level of their magic could be used. The way they harvested more mana was quite similar to shifters: instead of feeding off of emotions of people they were physically close to (like shifters), they feed off of the intimate touch of people they were emotionally close to. For this reason, werewolves often kept to themselves in a pack with their mates and offspring.

Mermaids were a bit different; anything with any kind of human energy kept their mana source satisfied. Due to this, they were able to absorb many different kinds of mana in different kinds of ways. It mostly depended on the individual mermaid’s preference. It could range from obtaining man-made objects that humans put time and energy into creating all the way to eating the source (humans) themselves. Thankfully, Waverly preferred the former.

*

Forks, Washington, USA

June, 2003

  
It was a rare day for the city of Forks. While not completely warm and sunny, the sun still shone through the bleak clouds above, casting an eerie, but light fog across the span of the tiny town. I had awoken early at the split of dawn and day, taking my old Volkswagen across town towards the Farmer’s Market that sat at the eastern border of La Push.

The Quileute Market had always reminded me of a guard station, with Old Quil acting as the older and wiser version of Sir Lancelot. Him and a few other men and women from the reservation, who were now deemed too old to work, worked their gardens and crafted their traditional pieces to sell every Saturday and Sunday. They sat around, playing poker and exchanging stories, only bothering to look up when a car passed. And depending on who it was, they would either wave or look up, then look back down to their cards with side glances at each other. I could say, with much pride, that I was a favorite customer of theirs.

My Volkswagen clambered up onto the slight hill, the red dirt flying and clinging to the white paint of my car. Finding my usual parking space, just off to the side closest to the reservation, I gathered the first of my handmade baskets (courtesy of Julia Littlesea’s Market contribution) from the passenger seat. As I swung open the creaky car door, first hoisting myself out then my woven basket, several of the elders came over to help.

“Well, if it isn’t ole Fruit Basket! Back to collect your weekly basket of fruits, eh?” Billy laughed, already far ahead of the other elders despite his wheelchair. I could almost swear that the man had enchanted his wheels to never hit more than a pebble.

I offered him a grin, tossing him the laundry container sized basket. He let out a faux groan, mumbling about “disabled, elder abuse” as he set the basket in his lap and reversed back into the Market’s building with it. I continued on my way to the trunk to get the rest of the baskets, grinning thankfully as Quil, Sue, and Harry came over to help gather the baskets.

“Although we all know that Billy is just a teasing brat on wheels,” Harry joked. “he is right about one thing, you will for sure buy us clean out at this rate!”

Sue nudged her husband in a playful scold, but I just laughed.

“Just keep spraying the plants with the tonic Mother gave you and you should be fine!” I shot back. “Speaking of… do you guys need any more?”

The four of us carried a basket each up to the Market’s porch, barely listening to Billy boast about already having filled his basket with the cherries it was meant for, in the background.

“Don’t worry, dear.” Sue replied stoically, with the same knowing glint in her eyes. “The tiny bottle seems to never end no matter how much we use it.”

“Almost like magic!” Harry laughed obliviously.

“Yes, almost.” Quil set his basket down on the fold out table under the awning, eyeing me skeptically but with the same welcoming smile. “But that tonic has helped us get through the past few Winters, enough to keep the whole reservation fed.”

I returned the smile, playing innocent once more.

“Ah, it’s just a little tonic!” I chuckled in false amusement. “I’m sure your hard-work has just been paying off.”

“C’mon, guys! I’ve already filled three of the baskets now! Cherries, apple, pears — now I hafta—“ Billy complained, rolling around us like a busy bodied, mother hen.

We laughed at Billy’s antics, but secretly I was quite thankful for his unintentional intervention. Although my family and I never admitted to our abilities, we never quite hid it either. After all, Magic was believed to be that of fiction and burning people alive have long since been deemed illegal in most countries. At this point, it was just inconvenient to explain the ins and outs of the process to everyone who figured it out. Besides, it would become a bit trickier if we also had to explain that the fruits were not just made for magical jams and preserves…

*

I had parked the Volkswagen full of fruit baskets off near the edge of the beach and hustled over in the opposite direction of the usual shoreline. Climbing through the sandy trail amongst the sea salt bleached trees — still dripping with the water from the sea breeze — it took nearly past an hour to make it to the cove.

This particular cove was amongst many on the coast. Yet, it was the most beautiful I had ever seen. The mixture of rocks and boulders — that one had to climb over and jump from one to another to make it to the inside — seemed to glisten despite the small amount of sun. And despite the blinding glimmer of the sea swept rocks, it still held the same sharp glint that foretold an ominous death should one slip. The water was clean and clear as well, giving anyone who looked close enough a stunning view of the tide pools beneath the surface of the water. Starfish, vividly colored aquatic plants, and small, iridescent fish filled the cove’s waters. But I knew that it hosted much more than it appeared.

After placing down the extra basket — one I had filled with a variety of fruits from the other baskets — onto the stony platform that was at the center of the cove, I swung my leather satchel off. Digging through the different pouches, each drew taught with enchanted drawstring, I finally found what I was looking for; a conch shell, pearly in color with a slight sea green coloring along the grooves with a sigil etched smoothly onto its inner fold. Without a moments hesitation, I knelt down onto the edge of the platform where it sloped down into the sea. The fish darted away in surprise as I dropped the large conch face up into the water. And just as many times before, if I looked closely, I could see the slight vibration from the conch that stretched out into the open sea from the rocky, underwater arch that the shell and myself faced.

I sat legs crossed and patient as the sun rose behind me. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long. Within a few minutes, the conch doubled in its slight movement, as if another vibrational response was given in turn. And only a few minutes later did a dark figure appear beneath the water’s surface, circling lazily around the stone platform I sat on. Murky, swamp-like fins graced the surface of the water, giving me warning to her arrival. And slowly the figure approached the front of the platform, peeking lazily, yet intimidatingly with dark eyes over the stone. The figure held up the conch, now perfectly still in her grasp.

“Ah, young Ainsel Graves.” Her voice seemed to slither out despite way she clicked her words. “How nice it is to see you….again. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Waverly Pearlescent of the Calypso Court, I believe the pleasure is all mine.” I smiled warily. “But I also believe that our meetings have gone on long enough that you must know what I want.”

“Of course.” Waverly sniffed, her spongey, foam green hair bouncing along with the current as she raised her bored looking face. “I had just hoped for a more… original request for once. No matter…

“I assume you must know that payment is required?”

Wordlessly I tossed the woven basket filled to the brim with fruits her way, still far enough so that she couldn’t reach out to grab myself instead of the payment offer.

She grinned, dark eyes widening to the point that her black irises nearly swallowed the whites of her eyes. Her teeth starting to lengthen and sharpen at the thought of the mana filled fruit, much abound with multiple human’s hard work and care.

I softly cleared my throat.

The mermaid looked up annoyed, but having caught my evaluating gaze, a look of contempt, but toleration soon replaced the hunger on her face as she resigned to filling out her end of the bargain.

“Yes, child?” She questioned, gaze still lingering on the fresh fruit before her. “What do you wish to know? How to accomplish world domination in two years alone? How to enslave a flock of harpies to do your bidding? Or perhaps —“

“None of that,” I quickly interjected. “Actually, there is a new family coming into town next week…. I would like insight on what I should expect.”

The mermaid’s face quickly merged from disappointment into a devious smirk, highlighting her canines in the morning light.

“Insight? Is that all!” She laughed cruelly. “Oh, child how you both bore and underestimate me!”

She started to sluggishly wade back and forth in front of the platform, fingers softly grazing the fruit she had begun to sort out — in a seemingly random way — during their talk.

“Yes, the stars have told me a great change is to come within the next few moons…”

A slight pause.

“And?” I prompted irritably, but all while still managing a polite tone.

Waverly grinned mischievously.

“Hmmmm, perhaps you could… sweeten the deal….”

I rolled my eyes, tossing a couple apricots from my satchel that I knew I would need in her direction. The mermaid lunged for them, before promptly regaining her composure.

“Yes, well,” She started, looking into my eyes a bit more seriously this time. “As of now, the world is in a Mars Retrograde — chaos, because of this, is at its all time peak.

“There will be conflict for this family, as well as the rest of the town, within the next few weeks. Tempers will flare, disputes arise, and it will not stop there.

Following soon after our Mars Retrograde is the Mercury Retrograde. The anger we express now, will soon lead to it being processed and interpreted differently by those we have shown our anger towards. This will lead to miscommunication, and sometimes inevitably, broken relationships. But…”

“But what, Waverly.” I narrowed my eyes at her.

She held her chin up, casually peeling the skin off one of the apricots I threw her with an unsettling smile. Her dark, knowing eyes looked up towards me.

“But,” She started. “These retrogrades, they take place just as the New Moon assumes it’s place in Cancer…”

“Your point?”

Waverly holds her hand out.

With a groan, I fish around in my bag for the last apricot. I aim for her head. Unfortunately, she manages to catch it in her scaly hand and sharpened nails.

“My point,” She nonchalantly continues, biting into the unpeeled apricot with a crunch. “Is that when the New Moon is in Cancer, it is a fresh start — a time to heal, if you will.

“And a time where a great number of souls meet their purpose in life.”

Before I could even react, there was a splash. My basket had tipped over, spilling its sweet contents into the cove’s deep waters. And Waverly Pearlescent, High Lady of the Calypso Court, had disappeared. Along with her fruits and knowledge, all while leaving a baffled, young witch in the middle of the cove.


End file.
